


Candlelit Epilogue

by Oksanna_Mallman



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oksanna_Mallman/pseuds/Oksanna_Mallman
Summary: I wrote this immediately following the death of Lexa. The reason I wrote it was 1) it was a beautiful scene 2) watching the LGBT community absolutely destroy Jason after what he did gave me inspiration to sort of immortalize what was essentially the catalyst for a god damn revolution.I put it here now because the 100 has ended (thank god, we're free!), and it turns out Lexa was the love of Clarke's life (duh). I hope i did the scene a bit of justice!
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa
Kudos: 5





	Candlelit Epilogue

Clarke woke up to the soft glow of candles. A lot of candles. Lexa was a fan of the candles. For a moment, she allowed herself to be mesmerized by the shadows and shapes that danced and leaped across the walls and ceiling, before dropping her gaze to rest on the figure beside her. She didn’t know if the Commander was still sleeping, so she seized the opportunity to memorize how Lexa’s neck curved into powerful shoulders and how her lanky arms gracefully sprawled at her side. It was a sight she could stare at forever. Clarke absentmindedly stared at Lexa while softly tracing shapes into her arm. Her previous question was answered when Lexa began to twitch at the touch. Not wanting to break the serenity but knowing it neared dawn, Clarke spoke softly and slowly.  
“If Octavia and I are to get behind the blockade by dawn-” her question was never finished as Lexa cut her off. “Shhhhh.” The sound faded as if it had been produced involuntarily but Clarke recognized a kind way of Lexa telling her to shut up. Lexa remained turned away from Clarke, so Clarke focused on the long tattoo that ran up the Commander’s spine. Her finger seemed to move of it’s own accord this time. “This is beautiful.” Clarke murmured softly. A breath, then sleepily. “I got it on my Ascension Day. A circle for each nightblood that was killed when the commander choose me.” It was full of remembrance and Lexa’s voice had adopted a slightly melancholy vibration to it. Clarke counted the circles. Seven.  
“Seven circles. I thought you said there were 9 novitiates at you’re conclave?“ Clarke asked confused. Lexa had said that, hadn’t she? “There were.” She responded quietly. Clarke looked at the back of Lexa’s head. “What happened to number eight?” She asked, genuinely confused. Lexa remained silent, the question hanging in the air. Suddenly, Lexa flipped, lying on her back, looking at Clarke. Clarke gazed up and down the length of the Commander. She was so fucking pretty. Clarke distinctly remembered the first time them met, the black war paint covering absolutely nothing. Sure Lexa had scared the shit out of her, but she didn’t know her at the time. Now, when she looked at her, most of the time, instead of a powerful commander of 12 clans, she saw Lexa, a young girl, who had to be the best. She saw a terrified girl who lost the love of her life but had to suck it up and press on. She saw decades of wisdom and insight, packed into a kid, who had barely lived. She saw Lexa and Heda, a beautifully, deadly combination.  
“Can we talk about something else?” Lexa’s voice brought Clarke back from her musings. Her question had brought back a painful memory and Clarke instantly regretted asking when she saw a universe of sorrow in the girl’s eyes. Clarke grinned. She had just thought of a good way to cheer Lexa up. Adopting an sultry, enticing tone, Clarke looked at Lexa with as much lust as possible and said, “We don’t have to talk at all.” Lexa grabbed at it immediately, her face splitting into a ear to ear grin. Clarke had seconds before Lexa’s lips suddenly met her in a fevered kiss. “God Damn, Commander”, was all Clarke could think as the kiss shook every fiber of her being. Lexa suddenly became very handsy, whipping one leg over Clarke and essentially straddling her. The last thing Clarke remembered thinking was, “This is what life is about.”


End file.
